


Build a Home

by amuse



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, absolute fluff and some sex going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuse/pseuds/amuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sammy,” John almost sings. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Do you know why there’s a truck of wood in our driveway?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build a Home

It’s early when the truck arrives, and John’s up and heading out the door for a run. He might not have noticed anything at all except that it isn’t just any truck. No, it’s a significantly large flatbed loaded with lumber. Not simple two by fours, either. He takes the steps quickly, meeting the driver before he’s halfway down the walk. 

“Good, you’re here,” the driver says. “I need you to sign before we unload.” 

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” John says, first eying the driver, then the bed of the truck. “I didn’t order any lumber.”

The guy checks his order again. “Gagner?”

John starts, but then closes his mouth. He glances back at the house where Sam’s still sleeping. Of course. He nods and takes the clipboard from the guy to sign. “I’ll open up the gate so you guys can unload. Just uh, can you stack it all near the far shed, please?”

“You got it.”

“Thanks,” he says and any idea he’s got for his run dwindles while he unlocks the side gate and the delivery guys get to unloading a shitload of wood. 

He heads back into the house and upstairs where Sam hasn’t stirred once since John had gotten out of bed. The more sadistic part of him wants to jar Sam awake for whatever surprise awaits him with the lumber, but he really just can’t. Sam is soft in his sleep and his hair is all over the place in ways that redefine bedhead. So John just chooses to kiss Sam awake, starting between his shoulder blades and making his way up along his neck until his teeth close gently over Sam’s pulse. Sam groans and John smiles through it. 

“Sammy,” John almost sings. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Do you know why there’s a truck of wood in our driveway?”

“Hmmm?” Sam hums, sleepily reaching a hand out to catch John’s leg. “Don’t stop doing that.”

“Focus, Sam. Lumber. Why are we getting it?”

It happens slowly, where Sam’s eyes blink open and he comes to full wakefulness. “Lumber. It’s here?”

“It’s here.” John confirms and watches Sam shift completely to his back. John rests his hand against Sam’s chest, his fingers brushing against the hair there.

“Oh fuck, I forgot,” he says and then offers John a sheepish smile. “I’m building a treehouse. Surprise?”

For their entire lives, Sam’s been surprising him and now, a month into Sam’s retirement, John can see that isn’t going to change. Still, a treehouse is more out of left field than Sam’s usual schemes. “Why exactly do we need a treehouse?”

“Well,” Sam pushes his hands against the bed and sits up. John’s hand drops to his thigh and that makes Sam grin. “Can we just, you know,” he’s all devil and despite John’s every wish to give into that, he won’t. And Sam knows it.

“Sam. Treehouse.”

Sam sighs ultra-dramatically and John rolls his eyes. 

“You’re such a dick sometimes, Johnny,” he says, then shakes his head. His sheepishness returns, but he talks anyway. “We’re gonna need one, you know, when we’ve got a kid. All kids need two things. A backyard rink, which you know, my dad’ll take care of and a treehouse, which I’m going to build. An awesome one in that big oak we got out there.” 

Sometimes John’s entire world condenses itself into the space between he and Sam. Those moments were rare when they were making this work from across countries but they steal more time now. John’s two more years away from his own retirement but Sam is with him now. They can have these conversations about marriage and kids and backyard rinks and actually touch the visions. John practically jumps into Sam’s arms and lap, his mouth all sloppy in the way he kisses him now, happy. 

“Just two things, eh?” John whispers, dropping all of his kisses along Sam’s jaw and against his throat.

“Well, you know, after the two awesome dads part,” Sam concedes, working his hands beneath John’s shirt and bunching it all up in preparation for its removal.

Once upon a time, this was all young and awkward. John couldn’t kiss and Sam could never wait. There was a lot of bumping, a lot of false starts, and too many too-soon finishes. They spent years stealing days and planning for tomorrows until their bodies fell in line and they knew each other the way they knew the slide of a blade or curve of a stick. They grew to handle each other in every given way for how they wanted it in those moments. Here, now, Sam barely has to move because John bends. There’s no time at all before John’s worked himself out of his pants and there are slick fingers until John’s almost full. Urgency never fades and Sam swallows every sound John makes with kisses that are both hungry and gentle. There’s a contrasting touch against his hip, fingers that soothe in the same motions with which Sam opens him. It’s as natural to John as breathing and when it’s Sam’s dick that’s filling him, he believes that’s more so. 

There’s more happiness in the way they fuck now. It’s less about stealing and more about having and they can take their time if they want because they get more than a few hours or even a day. They can relish in every different tone and desire and the lazy way John slows it down now makes Sam smile against his mouth. “We can do this in the treehouse,” he says. “Before the kid can go in it. It’s gonna be that cool.”

John breathes out a laugh, his focus darting from how fucking good Sam always feels inside of him and how perfect Sam’s face is when they’re like this. “So you can torture him when he’s older that his dads fucked in there.”

Sam barks out his laugh and nods in a jerking motion. “You know me too well, but how do you know our kid’ll be a boy?”

“You want a boy, don’t you?” John doesn’t still, not for their conversation or the way Sam’s breathing changes when his blood is up just that much more. John’s never thought they wouldn’t have a boy. A boy who would live on his backyard rink and be the best of both of them because of the way he was loved.

“I want a boy,” Sam’s voice slides down an octave and his fingers curl tight into John’s hips. He’s not pushing into a rush but John can feel Sam’s heartbeat right there against his own skin in the fingertips pressed against him. “I want a girl, too. I want like. Five of each.”

They don’t have to think about the possibility or probability of that, not when they’re like this, and John drops his head to Sam’s shoulder. It’s easy to get choked up when the idea of family is a closer reality or at least part of the discussion. “We’ll have our own Saturday games,” he murmurs, his teeth scraping against Sam’s collarbone. 

“Us against them?” Sam stutters the question and starts guiding John’s motion. 

“Probably best that way,” John grates because just that changes his own tension. Sam catches on to that and releases a hip in favor of grasping John’s dick. They’re in one of those moments, the kind where nothing is selfish and Sam wants them to come together. “Won’t be a good lesson if you start throwing sticks at me because I beat you.”

“Hey!” Sam holds himself and releases a hand just long enough to smack John’s ass. “You did that!”

“Fuck,” John forces through pursed lips because Sam wasn’t at all gentle with that slap and the feel of it is like tiny exploding fireworks over his skin. The tingling chases itself up his spine and John pushes his own fingers into Sam’s hair. He touches his forehead to Sam’s and he stays like that. He pulls in the way he can feel Sam smile because that was new and Sam loves that they still have so much to discover.

“That was really sexy, Johnny,” Sam whispers and John has to pick this up.

“Shut up,” he hears himself order, like he’s leaving his body. “Just. I need you to, c’mon, Sam.” 

Sam rarely needs to be told twice and he tugs on John’s dick until he’s spilling. John’s teeth crush against each other so hard that it almost makes him feel lightheaded enough to drift until Sam pulls him back. Sam holds him and fucks him until there’s nothing but warmth and finally the kind of stillness they both have spent years chasing with each other.

Sam’s the one that muscles John over and splays himself on top, ready to head back to sleep. John is obviously not running and the lumber is going to wait, but he slips his fingers into Sam’s hair. He can’t remember when he first fell in love with Sam but he knows every minute it still happens now. He feels his own breathing slow with Sam’s and rests within that cadence.

“Think of it, Johnny,” Sam whispers a little hoarsely. “A rink and treehouse in the back. How loud our lives will be.”

John’s never been loud but as his life becomes with Sam’s, he will be. “Can I help build it?” he asks.

Sam pinches his side and John yelps weakly, “Hey!”

“You really didn’t think you’d get out of that, did you?” Sam asks, but his voice is sliding closer to sleep. “You’ll be the waterboy.”

“You suck,” John tugs on Sam’s hair, but there’s no strength in it. He’ll save that for later when they take on this project and watch it become a thing to which they can move.

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason this whole sexiness thing is happening more often and I have no idea where it's coming from. Thank goodness auhee cleans my messes and makes everything presentable. Hearts her <3


End file.
